


The Coat.

by SirCatherine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Castiel Eats Ass (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Dean Winchester's Abandoned Sandwich, Dean Winchester's First Time With a Man, Domestic Castiel (Supernatural), First Kiss, First Time, First Time Bottoming, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Laundry, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Season/Series 10, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, i'm so glad there's a tag for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29017125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirCatherine/pseuds/SirCatherine
Summary: The one where Cas does some laundry.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 277





	The Coat.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the porn and then added the fluff and feelings later. Enjoy :D

Losing his grace had been the single most difficult adjustment Castiel had dealt with in the long expanse of his life. The transition to humanity at such a critical stage had nearly cost them everything, but in the end, had been worth it. Dean stepped in for him when Gadreel insisted that he leave, a fact that never failed to make Cas choke up a bit. For all his grandeur, at the end of the day, winning Gadreel over had been surprisingly simple; witnessing the genuine interaction of good men in times of hardship. 

He’d certainly never felt such kinship with Metatron or most other angels for that matter, given his unfortunate history, but experiencing it through Sam Winchester’s senses had been the nudge he’d needed to finally abandon the power hungry scribe.

With his help, Sam had been restored to full health, and they had been victorious without needing to resort to drastic measures.

It had been a true triumph for team free will; the first real one in a long long time.

So when Cas found that he couldn’t settle or relax in the slightest, it was a terrible blow. Left bereft of his grace--it’s location dying with Metatron--he sank into a pit, a crisis; who was he now? What was he to do? Without his powers, he was far from useless, just as Dean and Sam themselves were far from useless without the assistance of the supernatural, but the physical dependency was only half the struggle. What truly gave him trouble; the sort of trouble that made his mind and heart race and his hands tremble, was the emotions.

There were  _ so many _ and they were so  _ varied and nuanced _ he often struggled with merely identifying them, let alone process them. Many nights he laid awake paralyzed with anxiety only to move through the days in exhausted apathy. Of course in the months that followed the world’s return to somewhat normality, the initial shock had evened out; a feat largely due to the Winchester’s willingness to allow him to live amongst them permanently.

Somedays his heart was heavy for unknown reasons as he thought about the potential futures that would have come about if for some reason they had not, and it made him immensely grateful. Of course, they had offered out of kindness, but it had become imperative for the former angel to make himself useful outside of their typical hunting dynamic. While the brothers had each assured him in their own ways that they didn't need him to compensate for his humanity by indenturing himself to them, they never considered that he  _ needed _ the distraction.

He had found that the busy work of daily life was one surefire way to distract himself, and so he went about adopting various household chores one at a time until he had all but taken over the entirety of the domestic upkeep. 

The other was music. There was a bonus here as well because it meant that he shared an important common interest with Dean. Since his induction into humanity, the former angel hadn’t been able to resist completely falling for his best friend any longer, the feelings too strong to withstand without the aid of his grace to dilute them, and he’d found himself seeking commonalities with the hunter in an effort to spend more time with him. Dean had happily, one could even say giddily, shared his tape collection, and even gifted his friend an old walkman and headphones with which to explore it. And since they were roughly the same size, with Cas being built just a bit shorter and wider, Dean had also offered him some old clothes after having a good laugh when he'd witnessed him scrubbing the bathroom floor in a full three piece suit.

It was now a common sight in the bunker to see the once buttoned up angel of the lord clad in ripped jeans and hand-me-down band tees just a hair too small scurrying to and fro around the bunker, walkman on his hip and headphones on his head, oblivious to the world around him as he worked. He washed dishes, dusted and swept. He made careful lists of provision inventory and organized the pantries. He scrubbed down counters, sinks, toilets and showers and even polished the hardwood.

After an incident with the dishwasher (Cas now strictly washed every dish by hand), Sam had been hesitant when he’d asked about the washer and dryer, but to everyone’s great relief he’d gotten the hang of it without flooding the laundry room with bubbles. A weekly round up of laundry was seamlessly added to his list of duties. It was a guaranteed two fold interaction with Dean; once to pick up dirty clothes, and once again to drop them back off. He treasured the soft eyes and charming smiles, dinner plans, potential road trips, and plans to binge TV shows or marathon movies.

One such laundry day, Cas was eagerly making his rounds delivering freshly washed and folded clothing to the Winchesters in hopes he could catch Dean at an opportune moment to discuss last night’s Game of Thrones episode when he found himself standing outside hunter’s bedroom door at a crossroads.

Typically a swift knock was followed by the flash of a grin, and a warm welcome. Sam had taken his own basket without a hassle, but Dean was proving more difficult. The angel hadn't seen him milling around in his usual spots throughout the bunker and had concluded he was in his room, but there resounding silence after his initial knock now had him second guessing. 

After one more unsuccessful knock, Cas shifted his basket to one hip, pulled one fluffy orange speaker off his ear as he cautiously opened the door.

"Dean?" He called out, staying respectfully outside the threshold. "I apologize for intruding, but I have clean clothes for you." 

No response.

The former angel took a small step forward, poking his head into the room.

"Dean?"

It was empty, the only sound, his own muffled music.

It felt rather callous to just leave the basket outside the door, so with a steadying breath to calm the sudden nerves prickling up his neck, the angel pushed the door open and strode into the room. 

Cas had always appreciated Dean's room, though this was the first time he’d been in it without the hunter present. The decor was simple but poignant; a trophy wall of well worn weapons, photos of friends and family on his desk and rich earthy fabrics. It was organized but lived in. A shirt thrown over a chair here, an empty beer bottle there. More books lined the shelves than did the last time he’d been in there; a testament to the peace they were currently living. He couldn’t suppress the snort as a quick once over revealed a surprising mixture of science fiction and romantic drama.

The angel made his way over to the single dresser on the side wall next to the hunter's bed. He didn't have much, a few undershirts, some boxers and jeans. He intended to make quick work of putting them away and vacating the premises without anyone being the wiser. Unsure of what went where, Cas chose the first drawer at random and pulled it open.

He dropped the basket.

For a moment he wasn't sure if he was seeing it correctly, the cast shadow from the edge of the drawer that somewhat obscured the contents within. Just to be sure, he reached in, took the article in his hands and slowly pulled it out into the light.

It was his old trench coat. 

His chest constricted with unexpected emotion as he flexed his fingers in the familiar thick fabric he hadn't felt in years, memories from the dark time before it was lost to him bubbling unwelcomely to the surface. 

Dean had...kept it?

"Cas?"

Castiel startled, nearly tripping over the toppled basket at his feet in his haste to turn around, momentarily forgetting about the previously hidden article in his hands.

Dean must have come back from the kitchen if the plated sandwich in his hand was an indicator, but his easy, slightly confused expression slowly turned into bewildered horror when his eyes fell on the coat in Cas’s hands.

Cas might as well have found his shoebox of porn for the flush that bloomed over his face and neck. Dean tried and failed several times to speak first, managing a few lame "Uhs" and "Ums" before Cas could take the tension no longer.

"I wasn’t trying to pry. I was just…", he began stiffly, but a strange emotional pressure in his chest swelled to the point where he found himself unable to speak as both their eyes fell to the overturned basket of clothes at the angel's feet. 

Without his grace to regulate it, his human body was reacting in all sorts of ways he hadn’t anticipated seeing the old coat; not to mention being discovered by Dean himself. Blurry vision from unexpected sentimentality coupled with the burning flush of shame for having been caught red handed. It was a complicated dichotomy longing to communicate how much it touched him that Dean had kept it, while also wanting to bolt like a startled deer. He’d never wished so fervently for the ability to blink out of existence again.

Dean’s resounding silence created a spike in adrenaline that Cas couldn’t take a moment longer. So he gave one curt nod and placed the coat atop the dresser before making a swift move toward the door. "I should go."

A clatter of ceramic on wood was all the alert he got before a hand closed around his wrist, halting his retreat. Dean had set his spoils aside and prevented him from leaving.

"Woah woah, Cas, where's the fire?" He jeered good naturedly.

Cas shot a confused squint over his shoulder. "I'm not aware of any immolation in the bunker at present."

Dean stared blankly at the angel for exactly 3 seconds before his lips twitched into a quivering tight lipped grin, his eyes dancing with amusement. 

Another swell of emotion, this time pooling warm around his heart. That seemed to be happening more and more where it involved the hunter.

"No, dude--" He chuckled, dipping his head bashfully and averting his eyes. "It's an expression. Look, what I mean is, you don't have to flee the scene, okay? I get you're just trying to be helpful, but maybe just leave it inside the door next time?"

"Of course, Dean." Cas replied automatically, feeling foolish that he hadn't thought of that. He'd completely overstepped opening the drawer. "It won't happen again. I'm sorry."

"Nothin' to be sorry about." The hunter replied easily, "'sides, the coat  _ is _ yours. I've been meaning to give it back, just never found the right time."

Cas realized in that moment that despite successfully preventing him from ‘fleeing the scene’, Dean's fingers still loosely circled his wrist. The touch and their proximity sent a thrill skittering down his spine causing his heart to race and he hoped vehemently that Dean couldn't feel it at his pulse point.

Wetting his lips, Cas opened his mouth to speak only to stop short when he registered how the hunter's eyes tracked the movement. It seemed like an unconscious action because the moment Dean realized Cas hadn't yet replied, his eyes jumped up to meet the former angel's with a flush over his cheeks and nose that made the freckles dusted there stand out.

It was the same reaction Cas had experienced himself moments ago; like he’d been caught. Could it be for the same reason…?

Before he could stop himself, Cas asked, "After all this time...why did you keep it?"

That flush only deepened as the hunter swallowed audibly, before he seemed to realize what Cas had only moments ago. His gaze dropped down to the space between them and his own treacherous hand around his friend’s wrist. 

For a long moment it seemed as though the hunter was about to make a hasty retreat, but at the last second his expression shifted into something determined. This, at least, was a familiar sight. There had been many times throughout the years Castiel had seen a similar shift; such determination had saved worlds and shaken the foundations of heaven and hell. Cas had admired it from the very beginning, but it was certainly not admiration he felt now with it focused on him.

It was something headier, something magnetic that was always just under the surface between them; close but never quite touching.

Instead of releasing him, Dean tightened his grip meaningfully. 

“It was all I had left of you after…” He murmured, his voice low and sincere. 

“I’m sorry--” He found himself saying again, his voice coming out hoarse as the pressure in his chest hit a new peak. 

“Don’t,” Dean interrupted harsher than he intended before adding, softer, “I don’t need your sorrys, Cas. I just...need you here.”

Cas should have left it there and been grateful for the interaction, but something plaintive in the hunter's tone gave him a reckless sort of confidence that spurred him into action. He moved a half step closer, maneuvering his hand in a circle until he held the hunter's fingers gingerly in his own. 

Dean inhaled sharply, taken aback by the intimacy of it, but to Cas's astonishment, he didn't back down. Instead he raised his chin just slightly as if bracing himself, his eyes meeting the former angel's head on.

"And I am grateful to be here with you," Cas stated earnestly, before his gaze skittered away, adding in a smaller voice, "Despite all my faults…"

He was stunned by the warm crook of a finger at the side of his chin, allowing it to guide the direction of his gaze back over to the hunter’s own.

“Cas can we just--” Dean began, his expression almost pained. “Can we not play this game anymore? I’m tired, you know? Tired of thinking about things we do or don’t deserve because of things we did or didn’t do. We’ve both got big black marks in our books, but we’re still here. Let’s just...be here, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel parroted, distracted by now two points of contact between them.

He felt very certain that if Dean were to let him go now, he would fall off the face of the earth and be lost forever. 

It was Dean’s turn to wet his lips, a compulsory tic of his when he was anxious. “Okay.” Dean repeated, his tone firm as though he’d come to some sort of conclusion.

It was the only warning Cas received before Dean leaned in and pressed a simple warm kiss to his lips. For a moment the angel was stunned into inaction, but the second the hunter began to back away, his free hand shot up to the collar of his flannel of its own accord to halt his retreat, just as Dean had halted his before. Turning his head just slightly to the side, Cas glanced up into Dean’s eyes, in his own, a question.

_ Is this really what you want? _

So close, breathing each other’s air, the former angel could see every subtle shade of green contained within them. The dilation in his pupils was all the answer he needed.

He pulled the hunter back in, not breaking eye contact until the last moment when their lips met.

The kiss felt electric, the current between them finally,  _ finally,  _ creating a full circuit. 

The shift in the air was instantaneous; the prickling static energy before a storm. Dean’s hands came up to clutch at Cas’s back, the soft cotton fabric of his faded t-shirt bunching between his fingers as he pulled the angel in flush against his chest. Cas made a small startled sound in the back of his throat, his lips parting to protest his own hands being caught between them, but the words quickly degraded into moans as Dean took the opportunity to lick into his mouth.

The sound seemed to spur the hunter on, his hands sliding around the other man’s waist, manhandling him backward until they collided heavily with the door. There was no loss in momentum; in fact the impact only proved to heighten the interaction. 

Cas managed to pry his hands out from between them where he’d been gripping the hunter’s flannel, forcing them up and over his shoulders to shuck the offending material from his person before sliding his palms up the back of his neck to grip him and pull him impossibly closer. 

Dean’s tongue was nimble and powerful, coaxing Cas’s own into a sensual duel that made the former angel’s blood run hot. His senses were completely flooded by everything Dean. The scent of him; leather and gun oil and remnants of the spiced soap he used when he washed. The taste of him; fresh rye bread and salt and a hint of hops. The feel of his solid form thrumming with vibrant energy beneath his hands, even the fucking sound of him, the soft hums and sighs and wet slide of lips and tongue.

When Dean finally broke away for air, Cas chased after him, reluctant to let the connection go.

“Cas wait--” Dean panted, trying to reason with him as he caught his breath, turning his head a fraction to the side to deter another kiss. 

Instead of acquiescing, Castiel hooked a leg behind the hunter’s knee and flipped them around so that Dean was now pressed up against the wall beside the door. The hunter gave a small ‘oof’ with the impact, but hissed a breath through his teeth when Cas’s searching mouth found the sensitive skin below his ear.

“Tell me to stop.” He told the hunter, his voice low, almost pleading. “Tell me to leave. I will if you do, I will and it won’t hurt us. Won’t change us but…”

Cas gripped the hunter’s waist and sagged against him with his face tucked into the crook of his neck.

“...but I can’t wait, Dean. Not a second longer. Please.”

The plea was so fragile and it hit Dean as he wound his arms around his friend just what this interaction meant for them. For a moment they stood there wrapped up in one another, Dean shushing the former angel while he trembled in his arms. He smoothed his hands through his hair and up the center of his back for comfort until the tension eased out from between his shoulder blades. Then Dean tugged very gingerly at the angel's hair, just enough to draw his attention.

Reluctantly, Cas lifted his head to face the other man, embarrassed by the drying tear tracks under his eyes. He felt needy and pathetic, but when he met Dean's eyes, only warm affection shown there. 

The hunter traced his cheek with his thumb, brushing away the moisture, his expression one of reverence and patience.

"Alright angel." He murmured as he pressed their foreheads together. "Alright. Come here."

Bringing his hands back down to Cas's waist, Dean began tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. Cas inhaled sharply when the hunter's hands slipped beneath it and smoothed around to the small of his back, the rough calloused pads creating delicious friction against the sensitive skin there as he pulled the former angel in once again.

This time, Dean kissed him with slow and languid reverence, setting his stance a bit wider to allow Cas to press in closer between his knees. Their mouths slid together as Cas’s hands slipped down from the hunter’s waist to his hips, his thumbs hooked at the hem of his jeans to pull their hips flush.

They moaned together at the pleasant friction, the denim hot and hard between them.

“Dean,” Cas all but pleaded.

“Common big guy, show me what you’ve got.” Dean replied, challenging and cocksure.

It was as though the unspoken permission in the hunter’s words had flipped a switch. In a single fluid motion, Castiel bent his knees, dropped his hands down behind the hunter’s thighs and hoisted him up against the wall before surging forward to claim his mouth with the urgency of a man starved.

Surprised by the show of strength, Dean instantly clamped his thighs around his friend’s hips, hooked his ankles around his back, and wound his arms around his neck to keep himself upright. After thoroughly ravishing the hunter’s mouth, Cas finally broke away only to reattach at Dean’s throat and trail searing open mouthed kisses down to the collar of his undershirt, before dragging his teeth back up the other side.

“I want you.” Cas rumbled at his ear before sucking the sensitive lobe between his lips and rolling it between his teeth. He rolled his hips for emphasis, pulling another moan from the hunter. “For so long I’ve wanted you, please. Please let me…” He then freed one hand by lifting his thigh beneath the hunter’s backside and pressing his knee against the wall to balance the extra weight. Now able to explore, he slipped his hand beneath the hunter’s shirt to smooth over every dip and valley in the muscles of his torso, hiking it up further as he went. When his fingers found the sensitive peak of a nipple, Dean gasped aloud, his fingers tangling in Cas’s hair to pull his face back up for another fevered kiss.

“Bed.” Dean growled against the former angel's lips. “Now.”

Not needing to be told twice, Cas replaced his hand beneath the hunter’s thighs and pulled him off the wall. Using that momentum, he spun them around and then in three long strides he was dropping the hunter in his own bed. 

In their momentary separation, Cas really took the opportunity to soak in what was happening. He felt hot all over. His fingers and lips tingled with stimulation, while his heart raced behind the deep rise and fall of his panting breath. His eyes raked over the length of the hunter’s body laid out on the bed from where he stood between his knees, hair tousled, lips wet and kiss swollen.

It felt like a dream.

“Like what you see, angel?” Dean drawled, his voice deep and syrupy with arousal as he lifted his arms above his head to greater effect; even rolling his hips in teasing invitation.

“Too much clothing.” Cas growled in response, “Take it off.”

For a moment, the hunter looked shocked by the order, but Cas didn’t miss the hunger in his eyes before he hastily reached for the hem of his undershirt and he hiked it over his head.

Dean looked away momentarily to toss his shirt aside, before slowly turning back. With the length of his naked torso on display, he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at Cas through his lashes, watching the former angel's eyes darken as he drank in the sight.

"Keep going." Cas ordered, his voice low and commanding as he drew his own shirt up and over his head.

Dean bit his bottom lip to stave off a moan. It was easy to forget, especially now that he was human, that Cas was once a commander; a leader of legions in heaven. Fuck if that wasn’t pushing all kinds of his buttons. His hands dropped instantly to his belt buckle, fumbling with it for a moment before finally loosening the leather and pulling it apart.  His hands kept moving, fingers eager now to push down the dark denim as he wriggled further back onto the bed. 

Dean only made it so far before Cas became impatient and batted his hands away, shucking his boxers and jeans down his thighs and calves in one motion. 

Then Dean was laid bare before him, self conscious for his weeping cock bobbing heavy over his navel, rock hard since the moment Cas had flipped them around on the wall. He knew without asking that he was being absurd, a remnant of a time where his self worth had been questionable. There was definitely no room for such questions now given how Cas's eyes darkened as they inspected every inch of his exposed flesh.

The former angel then promptly knelt between Dean's knees as though in prayer, mouthing languidly at the sensitive skin of his inner calf and knee as he reverently tugged off the worn boots and rid him of the remnants of his clothing

Cas then kissed a line up Dean’s inner thigh, sucking bruises and leaving dark marks in his wake. Being so close to his aching length without touching it was maddening and Dean couldn't help the low whine that escaped him. 

Cas looked up from his work to find Dean flushed and tense watching his every move with unmistakable longing. After maintaining their dance for so long, seeing Dean so open and receptive after just a few touches were intoxicating.

"You want me to touch you so badly." Cas observed as he dragged the blunt edges of his nails up the backs of Dean's calves to his thighs and further still to his hips, his waist, his ribs. Dean released a satisfied sigh in reply, leaning back more on his elbows to enjoy the feeling of his lover’s wandering hands. "As do I, for so long Dean."

Cas wasted no more time with words after that. Instead, he dipped his head to lick a tantalizing stripe up the underside of his lover's cock. It twitched in response as Dean groaned aloud, the sound vulgar and loud in the quiet room.

Then, with warm breath and tongue, he teased the hunter mercilessly. It was satisfyingly warm but maddeningly light. Dean had the urge to tug at that messy dark hair, to pull the former angel down and thrust between his lips, resisting only because watching Cas’s tongue move over the swollen head of his cock was so enticing.

By the time Cas's lips parted and Dean finally slid into the searing heat of his friend's mouth, the hunter was a twitching panting mess. He fell back against the bed, no longer able to hold himself up, grabbing helplessly at the tousled fabric beneath him as Cas began to suck him off in earnest.

He watched his cock disappear behind those beautifully plush lips for as long as he could, but the moment Cas's hands began to move again, he was completely lost. Squeezing his eyes shut, he arched his back as his lover tugged and twisted at his peaked nipples with the clever fingers of one hand, while the other slid back down to spread his thighs wider.

Dean moaned at length when he felt that wandering hand circle his shaft, assisting his mouth for a few twists before continuing down, tugging gently, and massaging his tightening balls. It was so fucking good, the movements so fucking fluid that what little control Dean had was slipping away at an embarrassing speed. It had been a long time since he’d gotten head, and longer still, if ever, that it had been given with such vigor.

Dean was hot all over, but when that telltale delicious heat began to pool in his lower belly, he forced himself back up on his elbows and slipped a hand into Cas's hair to warn him.

"Cas, man I'm gonna--fuck--" A particularly skilled swirl of tongue and suction made the hunter stutter through the words, "--I'm--fuck--Cas I’m gonna come."

Cas hummed low and pleased. The vibration was almost enough, almost exactly what he needed, placing him right on that knife’s edge. He lingered there, hypersensitive and hyperaware, watching Cas’s hips grinding shamelessly into the edge of the bed, eager for the friction as his head bobbed in time. When it registered in his lust addled brain that he was watching Cas get off on getting him off, Dean groaned his lover’s name loudly, his fingers tightening in that dark mop of hair as his thighs began to shake.

When Cas's fingers slipped behind his balls, pressing and massaging the sensitive skin there, Dean was gone. His muscles seized as his cock pulsed, a litany of colorful curses falling over his lips as he came harder than he had in years, spilling sticky and hot over Cas's tongue.

The former angel didn't even flinch, moaning around the hunter's cock as he swallowed around the engorged and sensitive head, the muscles of his throat constricting and wringing Dean out for all his worth.

Dean collapsed back against the mattress, gulping in air as he caught his breath. Cas eased off of him with a slow glide of lips and tongue that made the hunter hiss through his teeth at the delicious oversensitivity of it. 

He lifted his head then to watch as Cas pushed himself up, hovering over the hunter with a hazy self satisfied smile on his face.

"Beautiful." He whispered reverently in the space between them.

Dean felt his face heat up over the praise, absurd considering what they'd just done, but instead of waving it off, the hunter smiled bashfully. 

"You too." He murmured just as sincerely.

Castiel dipped down to leave a warm lingering kiss to his lover's lips before Dean pressed a hand to his chest; a silent request to speak.

"Come on big guy, I wanna return the favor." He insisted with the suggestive waggle of his brow.

Cas ducked his head, his face tinged pink. "That won't be necessary."

For a brief moment the words stung, but then Dean remembered how the angel had been...occupying himself. A quick glance down revealed the truth; a dark wet spot in the front of his jeans.

"Fuck that’s hot," Dean rumbled.

“It is?” Cas asked, meeting Dean’s eyes with a skeptical expression. “Pop culture typically portrays premature ejaculation as undesirable.”

Dean stared at his friend like he’d grown another head for a few moments before he began to tremble with laughter. He tried hard to hold it back, but the deeper the former angel scowled the funnier his terminology became until finally, it burst out of him in a fit of belly laughter that made him feel lighter and warmer than he had in years.

And Cas had given that to him.

“Dean why--?”

Before Cas could complete his question, Dean looped his arms around his lover’s neck and pulled him down for a quick kiss.

It was so easy to kiss him now that they’d crossed that line. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

“Definitely not undesirable,” Dean murmured against his lips, searching out Cas’s free hand and pulling it back to his groin where his cock was already twitching with interest despite having just come minutes before. “Haven’t had a turn around like this since I was a teenager.”

Cas seemed just as surprised, meeting Dean's eyes with desire and uncertainty. 

"Are you sure--?"

"Absolutely." Dean told him, barely letting him even ask, before patting him on the shoulder. "Up."

Cas stood as he was prompted, squirming a bit at the uncomfortable sensation of cooling spend in his boxers.

"Here," was all the warning Dean gave before he tossed a large plush grey robe at him. "Get out of those clothes, toss that on and go get cleaned up. I'm going to go get us some water..."

He trailed off, distracted as he watched Cas shimmy out of his pants. Sensing the hunter's eyes, Cas gave a little show of cleaning himself off with a dry portion of his boxers before shucking them as well.

"You are hot as hell." Dean drawled, eyeing the length of his lover's nakedness up and down. Strong arms, wide shoulders, sturdy flat stomach, thick powerful thighs: all wrapped up in smooth olive skin he desperately wanted to sink his teeth into. His cock was a bit shorter than Dean's but wider; proportioned to him with dizzying accuracy. What would it feel like in his hand? On his tongue? In his…

"Dean?" Cas prompted, a smug knowing look on his face though he didn't say anything more.

"Right.” Dean cleared his throat, tearing his eyes away from Cas's nakedness with great effort to throw on his own robe. “We’ll reconvene here in ten.”

As Dean made his way to the door, Cas caught him by the waist, and pulled him in close.

“Make it five.” Cas growled as he nipped at the hunter’s lips. “Not a second longer.”

Dean tried very hard not to swoon with marginal success. “Right.” He repeated because he could think of nothing else, before backing away. 

They parted ways in the hall, Cas padding down toward the bathroom, while Dean headed for the kitchen. So caught up in the high of what had happened not to mention the promise of what was to come, he completely forgot anyone else was in the bunker until he turned into the kitchen to find Sam munching away at a salad in front of his laptop at the table.

Dean froze in the door, realizing for the first time that he hadn’t even thought of Sam at all. He’d been...a bit loud earlier. Had he heard? Doesn’t matter, just act casual. Fuck. Now Sam was looking up at him with a questioning expression because he was still standing in the doorway like an idiot.

Dean jerked into action, striding into the kitchen and straight over to the fridge with a grunted, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Sam replied, turning to watch his brother. “It's half past two, are you just getting up?”

Dean stared hard at the contents of the fridge, internally freaking out. What did he say to that? He was an early riser, there was literally no reason he should be getting up this late. Floundering, he said the first that popped in his head.

“Was up late bingeing a new show.” Dean explained as he pulled out a few water bottles as inconspicuous as he could, utilizing the pockets of his robe. He uncapped one as he turned back around and brought it to his lips for a long swig.

“You going to do it with Cas now?”

Dean sputtered and choked around the water, sending a spray across the kitchen in his shock.

“What the hell Dean!” Sam hollered as he took the brunt of the spray. 

Dean coughed at length while Sam fetched a hand towel from the table, before pelting it directly at his brother’s face once he’d cleaned himself off.

“What did you say?” Dean wheezed, catching the towel. 

Sam rolled his eyes, “Are you gonna do it with him? Binge the show? You guys have been making it a habit to do it together.”

Wiping off his mouth and the front of his robe, Dean avoided his brother’s eyes when he answered, “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll get to it when he’s got the time.”

Sam eyed him suspiciously like it was the first time he was really seeing him since he’d come into the kitchen.

“You feeling okay?” He asked a moment later. “You’re awfully flushed.”

Dean very carefully did not let his face react to that. Instead, he shrugged noncommittally and headed for the door. “Never better, Sammy.”

“Sure.” Sam muttered, unimpressed. Then, right as Dean hit the threshold he said, “Keep it down this time, will you?”

Dean once again froze in the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder, feeling the blush on his face and hating it. “What?”

“The volume?” Sam told him a knowing glint in his eye, “You guys aren’t the only ones who live here.”

“Sure thing.”

* * *

  
  
  


As soon as he’s out of eyeshot, Dean has a small episode involving a slew of muttered curses while his face and ears burned from embarrassment. He slunk back to his room like a teen caught with a porno mag. Before he opened the door, the hunter leaned his forehead against the wood grain, his hand resting on the knob, to compose himself. Sam and his smugness didn’t matter right now. 

All that mattered to him was getting back to Cas. 

With a steadying breath, he opened the door and what was waiting for him on the other side put everything else from his head. Cas was sitting back against the headboard with his ankles crossed, and his hands resting casually in his lap. He still wore the robe, though it hung enticingly off one shoulder. He sat forward as Dean came closer, a charming affectionate smile dimpling his cheeks.

“You’re late.” He chided without any heat.

Dean returned the smile with a raised brow and a sensual grin of his own. “So I am.” He replied as he came around the side of the bed he typically used. He took just a moment to deposit the retrieved water bottles on the nightstand, before lifting a knee onto the mattress with a thoughtful expression and addressed Cas once again. “How can I make it up to you?”

“Take off that robe.” The other man ordered as he too got to knees, kneeling before the hunter. 

The direct tone sent a thrill down Dean’s spine. He compiled without comment, feeling his skin heat and his cock swell as he did as he was told. That robe slipped off him and pooled at his feet.

“Good.” Cas observed as he too disrobed and reached for the hunter, “Now come here.”

Dean smoothed his fingers into Cas’s outstretched palm before walking forward on his knees. The former angel then looped his other arm around his back and pulled him in for a kiss. Their separation had done nothing to quell Cas’s fire if the hard flesh nudging in the crease of Dean’s inner thigh was any indication. The hunter eagerly opened his mouth, ready and willing to allow Cas to take what he wanted.

Now that they were both completely bare, Cas’s hands seemed to naturally gravitate to Dean’s ass, palming and kneading the firm lobes and swallowed down every groan and sigh that escaped his hunter. Dean’s fingers tangled in his shower damp hair, gripping and pulling with every flex of Cas's fingers. 

Cas then used his hold on the hunter to press their hips together and they groaned against each other's lips as their erections slotted together between them.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean panted in the scant space between them, lust drunk and needy, “Want you.”

“You have me.” Cas rasped as he drew back to nip down the hunter’s jawline. With his hands gripped and separated the hunter’s cheeks, drawing a high whine from him. 

“Cas, please.” Dean pleaded.

“Tell me what you want.” The former angel ordered.

Dean’s breath caught as his lover continued to knead at his ass, his fingers sliding teasingly against the crease and leaving him aching for his touch in ways and in places he’d never ached so badly for before. His face burned with embarrassment and lust alike as the words for what he desired most settled at the tip of his tongue. 

“I…” Dean hesitated, sighing as Cas mouthed a line of hot wet kisses down his throat to suck at the protrusion of his clavicle. “I want you to...to touch me.”

“Touch you where?” Castiel prompted against Dean’s skin, this time gentler, knowing it was difficult for his hunter.

“Cas…” Dean whined, his face burning hotter.

“I will give you anything you want,” Cas affirmed as he drew back, nosing at the hunter’s cheek when Dean turned away, unable to keep eye contact--that was okay. “But I need to hear you say it.”

Dean inhaled deeply to calm his nerves. Then, with his arms draped over the angel’s shoulders, and Cas sighing sweet encouraging nonsense at his ear, he squeezed his eyes tightly closed as he finally answered.

“Inside…”

The single word was little more than a breath, but it was exactly what Cas had wanted.

“So good.” Cas praised him before leaning back in to kiss him sweetly; a reward. “Lay back.”

Dean did as he was asked, allowing Cas to maneuver him as he wanted until at last, he was resting against his own pillow with his lover kneeling beside him. 

“Turn over.” Castiel instructed next.

Once again, the hunter did as he was asked, curling his arms under his pillow. He laid still with one knee bent a bit higher so he could look demurely back over his shoulder at the former angel. The position left him feeling vulnerable, which only deepened the flush across his face. He had never exposed himself like this to anyone, never asked to be touched like Cas was about to touch him. This was something only ever meant for them.

“Relax.” Cas sighed against the back of his lover’s neck as he leaned in over him, his hips fitting perfectly against the hunter’s ass. “I’ve got you.” He lowered himself down slowly, giving Dean a bit of his weight which seemed to help calm him. Dean’s breath hitched as he felt Cas’s dick nudge against the back of his balls, the combination of desire and anticipation making him light headed.

Then, very slowly, Cas began to slide his body down, kissing along Dean’s spine, his lips and tongue tracing patterns across the vast expanse of warm skin and drawing goosebumps across the surface. Dean’s little sighs and moans escalated in frequency and volume the closer he got to his destination. By the time the heat of Cas’s breath brushed over the crease of his ass, Dean was panting and gripping fists fulls of the sheets beneath him.

Dean couldn’t quite wrap his head around what was happening, needing to keep one eye peeking over his shoulder to watch what his lover was doing, whining in frustration when Cas pulled away.

“Lift your hips.” Cas instructed, massaging over Dean’s hips as he complied and pushed himself up on his knees, effectively presenting himself to the former angel. “That’s it. You’re so good for me, Dean.”

Dean buried his face in his pillow at the praise, a fragile sound emanating from the back of his throat. Words shouldn’t affect him like this, should make him crave and lust to obey, to please, but there he was, ass in the air and  _ fucking loving it.  _

Cas then brought his hands up and over the small of the hunter’s back, then back over the firm curves of his ass, kneading at the supple skin before separating the lobes. Dean tensed, his toes curling against the sheets as the most private part of him was exposed to his lover and the open air.

Cas continued to massage him in an attempt to ease the tension from his muscles, but the moment Dean felt hot breath on his lower back, his breath began to come quicker, his anticipation quickly slipping into mild panic. Sensing this, Cas pressed his lips against the small of his back.

“Do you want me to stop?” Castiel asked against his skin. “I will if you need me to.”

“N-no.” Dean replied, his voice trembling but determined. “Just...just go slow. I’ve...I’ve never done anything like this before.”

There was a beat of silence before Cas asked in a small quiet voice, "I'm your first?"

"Yeah." Dean replied just as quietly. "Always wondered, just never…",  _ trusted anyone else enough.  _ The words died in his throat before he could finish.

Cas seemed to understand regardless. "Thank you for trusting me," he told him, all patience and devotion. “Please tell me if it’s too much.”

Dean nodded his acknowledgment, words escaping him as he felt Cas’s breath inch lower. He held his breath, poised on the tip of a knife, not knowing what to expect. He yelped at the first drag of Cas’s tongue over his hole, the sensation making his entire body jerk. He buried his face further into his pillow and Cas moved one hand to grip his thigh, caressing it for comfort. Dean felt the fingers of the other flex to keep him spread open. Cas made another tentative lick, this time in a quick circle.

Knowing now what it felt like, Dean was better able to control his body’s natural reaction. Breathing slowly through his nose, he turned his face out of the pillow, squinting at his dresser, the coat that had begun all this still draped across the open to top drawer. Cas licked him again, slower this time, with the soft width of his tongue, before finishing with the light suction of his lips; a kiss. 

Fuck it was filthy.

And so fucking hot.

He'd never been so turned on.

It pried an unexpected moan from the hunter and Cas grip on his thigh tightened in response as he immediately repeated the action. Dean moaned again, surprising himself with how wrecked he sounded already. If someone were to ask with words if this was the sort of thing he was into, he would probably deck them in the face on principle, but right now with Cas’s tongue and lips assaulting him like this, he was absolutely ruined for it.

When Cas dipped the tip of his tongue inside him, Dean yelped again, but this time his hips jerked backward toward the sensation.

“Jesus fucking christ, Cas.” Dean swore, his voice hoarse and trembling. “What the fuck are you doing to me?!”

The only response was another languid swipe of the flat of his tongue around his rim in a circle, before an equally slow prod just barely inside; a tease.

“Cas!” Dean cried out, rolling his hips back again, “Fuck, yes, keep doing that!”

He felt more than heard the rumble of the former angel chuckling at his demand, but Dean barely had a moment to register the sound before Cas was on him again, this time using all the techniques in succession. Swipe, probe, suck, swipe, probe, suck; each lick of his tongue delving deeper, curling more precisely.

Dean was absolutely at his mercy, arching his spine and spreading his thighs like he was made for it, fists twisting in the sheets. He moaned a litany of curses and the angel’s name in wonton abandon while his hips undulated in the sensual rolling pace that Cas had set. He could feel saliva dripping in slow tickling lines down the back of his testicles. His dick swayed heavy and swollen between his thighs, a steady stream of clear sticky pre-come beading at the tip and dripping onto the sheets creating a dark wet spot. 

Then he felt it, the blunt width of Cas’s finger edging in closer, nudging gently in time at his rim under his tongue. Dean groaned his approval, rocking his hips back against it. The solid digit felt different, almost uncomfortable but its glide was eased by his lover's clever tongue and the slick mess he’d created with it. Soon, his finger was sliding into the hunter with relative ease. 

The psychological effect was a strange one. Dean had never experienced penetration like this, not even on his own. It just wasn’t somewhere he ever thought to explore for all the obvious hygienic reasons, but also because...well...if he was being honest, he’d never imagined himself being the one to receive. 

Dean had always had this idea of himself, a projection of what he had learned a man should be like from his father. As a man, he was meant to be dominant and knowledgeable, and confident. He was built to give, not take, in every sense of the word, and in every sexual encounter he’d experienced, he's assumed that role without thought to any other possibilities.

It wasn’t until meeting Cas with his raw power and his serious nature that Dean had even considered any other way, but even then he'd not allowed himself to seriously  _ think about it  _ until the former angel had begun living with them permanently. Now, in the throws of this unexplored experience, the idea of himself he'd built up over the years was slowly breaking down and it was as thrilling as it was confusing to discover that he  _ really fucking liked _ it. 

“More!” Dean moaned at length when the single digit was no longer enough.

Cas licked down the sensitive trail of skin beneath his rim and down the seam of his balls and back up before slowing his ministrations and pulling away altogether.

“I need a formal lubricant before I go further.” Cas instructed a bit breathlessly.

“Drawer.” Dean panted, pointing vaguely at the nightstand.

Cas leaned to the side to open the indicated drawer, fishing around for a moment before coming back with a small nondescript bottle of clear liquid.

“Tell me what you do with this when you’re in here by yourself.” Cas prompted as he clicked the cap open.

“I--I touch myself.” Dean replied, finding that it was becoming easier and easier to speak when Cas asked him to.

“Like this?” Cas asked as he circled his now slickened finger teasingly around the hunter’s hole.

“N--no” Dean stammered, then groaned long and low as the former angel pressed his finger all the way in to the knuckle. “I’ve never--”

“Then how?” He asked as he began to thrust once more. The lubricant changed the experience entirely. The slick glide felt more natural, more like…

“My dick.” He grit through his teeth when he felt a second finger nudge at his rim. The word is harsh and filthy and perfect for the moment. “I use it to touch my dick.”

There was a slight burn as Cas’s second finger slipped past the tight ring of muscle, but it was gone almost before it began as the former angel began to thrust his hand again, keeping the strokes long and languid. He leaned over close to his hunter’s ear, bearing all his weight on his other hand while he worked.

“What do you think about when you touch your dick?” He rumbled.

Cas’s voice was low and husky with arousal. It made Dean squirm and writhe and whine.

“You.” He breathed, “I think about you.”

There was a slight stutter in his lover’s movements as a low groan escaped him, the first real sound Dean had heard from the other man, before he picked up the pace, crooking his fingers against a spot inside the hunter that made him cry out. The tips of his fingers brushed at it a few more times before backing off to nudge a third finger teasingly at Dean’s rim, asking “What about me?”

“Fuck, Cas. Need, more,” Dean moaned, rolling his hips back against Cas’s fingers in time with his thrusts, eager for more of that delicious sensation.

“Answer me.” The former angel commanded, purposefully keeping his fingers thrusting shallowly until he answered.

Dean’s mind whirled, trying to think of something as all the instances of his ample alone time blurred together in his mind. He realized then that there had been a common theme to his fantasies for a long time now that made his face burn with lust and embarrassment.

“You f-fucking me.” Dean finally stammered out. “I touch my dick and think about you fucking me.”

This time, much to Dean’s dismay, Castiel pressed his forehead into Dean’s shoulder and ceased all movement entirely. He squirmed beneath the former angel, whining for him to continue until he felt it. Cas’s cock was pressing against the back of his thigh, hot and rigid and weeping.

“Say it again,” Cas demanded, though this time his voice was little more than a rasp.

For the first time that evening, Dean felt like he had the upper hand. He turned his head to the side to nuzzle his nose into his lover’s hair. 

“Cas I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve laid right here in this bed, rock hard, and got off to the idea of you fucking me into the mattress." He drawled, his voice syrup sweet and thick with lust. “I’ve never let someone inside--” A moan burst out of him as Cas suddenly began moving again, the third finger slicked up and sliding in next to the others with ease. This time as he thrust, he began to spread his fingers and stretched the hunter’s rim wider.

Dean realized at the moment that he was being prepped and it was very nearly his undoing.

“Never?” Cas murmured huskily against Dean’s skin, “Only me?”

“It’s only ever been you, Cas.” Dean found himself saying, “Always.”

Cas crooked his fingers once again, this time purposefully pressing the pads of his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside the hunter that made him see stars. Dean cried out as his balls began to tighten, heat pooling in his belly. When the muscles around Cas’s finger’s tightened, the former angel reached around and gripped the base Dean’s cock, choking off the orgasm that was fast approaching. Dean cursed loudly, clawing at the sheets as the former angel pulled his fingers free.

“Not yet.” He crooned, his voice gentle despite the cruelty he was currently exhibiting. “I want to make your thoughts real, Dean. I want to bury myself inside you. I want to feel how tight you grip me and how willing you take it. Then I want you to come on my cock alone. Do you think you can do that, Dean?”

Where in the holy fucking hell Cas had learned to talk so god damn dirty was beyond Dean, but fuck if it wasn’t exactly what he needed to hear.

“God, yes.” Dean groaned. “Yes, I can. Please just--”

The hunter’s words are cut off as Cas manhandles him onto his back with his knees bent and spread wide to accommodate Cas kneeling between them, his aching erection center stage and curving delicately toward his navel. Dean salivates, licking his lips at the sight. next time he'd get a taste of it, but now there were more pressing matters. His ass and his inner thighs glistened with lubricant and saliva, his hole delicious stretched and achingly ready. He looked and felt hot, a sheen of sweat glistening over his skin flushed with deep crimson from his shoulders and up his throat to his cheeks,

Cas's eyes were midnight dark as he uncapped the lube again and squeezed a generous amount into his open palm before dragging it across his own erection in a few slow twists of his wrist. Dean watched, enraptured, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth while Cas allowed himself to get lost in his own touch, putting on a show for his lover as he groaned and thrust his hips into his own fist, the swollen head of his cock pumping between his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Dean heard himself sigh, and though the word choice surprised him, the sentiment did not. 

Cas slowed to a stop, gazing at Dean with such open affection and warmth it completely changed the mood between them. There was still lust and need but there was something else now, something deeper, something more profound glistening in the depth of that ocean blue as he lowered himself into position. 

Dean brought his knees up to give his lover the access required. He felt awkward and uncomfortable, wanting more than anything to look away as the head of Cas’s cock teased at his loosened hole, but knew in his heart that this moment was too big, too important to allow his hangups to keep him from being present. Cas peered down between them, a look of intense concentration on his face as he used his hand to guide his cock, pressing further, the pressure and the anticipation building. He was bigger and firmer than the fingers Dean had taken with ease. The burn was more intense, like he was being split in half, but he forced himself to breathe evenly through it.

On bated breath, they waited until at long last, Cas pushed past the tight ring which had been stubbornly keeping him out. He froze then, his eyes jumping up to meet Dean’s, searching for any hint that something was wrong or painful or--

“Keeping going.” Dean assured him, though it was through a tight jaw. He adjusted his legs to hook around his lover’s back then exhaled shakily. "Slow."

Cas obliged, removing his guiding hand to frame the hunter’s head with his arms as he continued to press inside, inch by agonizingly slow inch. Dean’s finger’s flexed against the backs of Cas’s thighs, blush dark and high on his cheeks, but unable to look away from his eyes. It was the most intensely intimate moment of his life, being filled by the stiff, searing proof of how much Cas wanted this; wanted  _ him _ . 

An age passed it seemed before Cas was completely seated, his balls nudging against Dean’s skin. He lingered there, completely sheathed, allowing them both to adjust.

It was nothing like Dean had ever experienced before, and he struggled more than he’d cared to admit with the idea that there was a dick in his ass. What did this make him? Would this change who he was? Did this make him a--? 

His eyes squeezed shut, the hateful word his father had used to describe men who did this seeping into his brain like spilled oil.

“Dean?” Cas prompted gently, sensing the other man's rising distress and brushing his fingers soothingly over his cheek. “Dean, look at me.”

Reluctantly, Dean creaked his eyes open, hating the moisture blurring his vision, his focal point sitting somewhere near his lover’s left cheek, unable to meet his eyes dead on.

“What’s wrong? Is it too much? If you need me to stop--"

“No!” Dean blurted out, his hands jumping up to curl around Cas’s shoulders to keep him in place. “No, stay. Please. I--I just need a second.”

The word rushed out of him in a jumble, his entire body trembling with the effort to control his emotions. Cas nuzzled in under the hunter’s jaw then, shushing him and cooing sweet nothings against his skin as Dean inhaled a few steadying watery breaths despite the few tears that slipped from the corners of his eyes. Cas merely brushed them away without comment, knowing his hunter would appreciate the moment to collect himself.

At last, Dean spoke, “You can move now," he murmured, maneuvering one of his hands to grip the back of his lover’s neck, holding him flush so there was no room at all left between them. Likewise, Cas maneuvered an arm up under Dean's left thigh to better guide his movements, before he raised his hips, dragging his cock out almost completely, before sliding back home in the same fluid motion.

The pair of them sighed in unison, the slow roll intense and tight and hot, but oh so intimate. Cas kept his cheek pressed into the crooked Dean’s shoulder, mouthing and kissing at the skin there while he settled into an achingly slow rhythm. It was everything Dean had wanted and more. He could feel every rigid inch of him moving in and out, could feel every twitch, each pulse of his lover's cock as his own inner muscles gripped at him.

For a long time they moved like that; unified, learning each other.

But Dean could feel Cas’s grip on his thigh tightening with need, could feel the hesitant stutter in his rhythm and he knew that for all his composure before, Cas’s restraint was slipping. Dean turned his head, mouthing at the shell of his lover’s ear before he spoke.

“Faster.” Dean pleaded, “Harder. Come on Cas, I wanna feel it later."

Cas groaned in gratitude, wasting no time to do as he was asked, picking up a steadier rhythm that pulled a long, low moan from Dean. Gone was the burning pressure, replaced with a brilliant aching pleasure that built and built with every thrust, each a bit harder, and a bit quicker than the last.

The steady slap of skin against skin accompanied by the thump of the bed frame hitting the wall was probably the hottest sound to have ever filled the space of the room. It could have lasted minutes or hours, Dean had lost all sense of time. All he knew was the perfect slide of Cas inside him, and how he never wanted to be without it ever again.

Then the former angel reared back on his haunches, gripping Dean’s hips and, pulling his pelvis up into his lap, dramatically changed the angle as he hooked one of the hunter’s knees over his shoulder, allowing the other to fall open to the side. Dean used his elbows and forearms for leverage to arch his back and continue to meet Cas thrust for the thrust. It took them a moment to settle back into the rhythm, almost as though Cas were searching for the perfect spot, until lo and behold, he found it.

Dean threw his head back, crying out loud enough he was sure it echoed down the hall. 

“Fuck, Cas, fuck. Yes! Right there. Don’t fucking stop.”

Cas pounded away, ramming directly into Dean's prostate on every thrust in, and dragging across it with every pull back. It was too much and not enough, but the moment Dean's hand inched toward his aching erection, Cas snapped his hips forward in an especially brutal fashion.

"Dean," He growled in warning.

Dean cried out in frustration but heeded his lover's tone, pressing his head back into the mattress as he arched his back further, working his core to roll his hips at just the right angle, just the right speed. 

Sweat was beading at Cas's temples and forehead, dampening his hair, and Dean witnessed in real time the moment he hit his threshold for control. His expression flashed from steely concentration to escalating ecstasy, his jaw falling slack against his chest as he, unbelievably, slowed his hips to a deep, firm swivel.

It seemed that they were riding that knife’s edge together this time, their eyes locking as they realized at the same moment what was happening. Heat bloomed in Dean's lower belly as his balls tightened, his dick nearly crimson, leaking profusely and so so close to release 

"Cas," Dean whined, his hands jumping to grip his lover's ass, holding him as close as he humanly could. "I-I--" 

"That's it, so good, so fucking perfect for me." Cas groaned, "Come for me, Dean. Let me see you."

And that was all she wrote.

The orgasm hit Dean so hard his entire body seized, freezing in a perfect arch as though he'd been touched by a live wire. His dick pulsed, sending thick ropes of pearly white semen across his belly and chest. Hoarse shouting filled his ears and he realized too late that it was his own ruined voice chanting Cas's name. 

It was easily the most intense orgasm he'd ever had, naturally occurring on the heels of the best sex he'd ever had, and it went on and on, longer than he thought his body capable of, his inner muscles spasming and twitching with after shocks around Cas's length long after his dick was spent.

With one last slow circle of his hips Cas was crying out as well, buried to the hilt and nearly doubling over as his own orgasm hit him. Dean knew he'd feel something but there was no amount of mental preparation he could have undergone to prepare for the pulsing of that thick cock, or the flood of liquid heat as Cas came inside him.

So deep, and nudged right up against his prostate, the sensation was enough to bring Dean to one last quick sharp unexpected climax that stole his breath, his dick barely dribbling as he writhed.

For a long time, they stayed still, connected in the most intimate way with the only sound shared between them their heaving breaths. Cas rubbed a hand absently over the leg still propped over his shoulder, admiring the blissed out lopsided grin which had settled over his hunter's lips.

It wavered for only a moment as Cas pulled out, and while the unpleasant sensation of his softening dick slipping free was definitely nowhere near as awe inspiring as it had been going in, it was satisfying in its own way. 

Once free, Cas settled beside Dean on his back, and the pair of them laid shoulder to shoulder staring up at the ceiling as they came down from their mutual endorphin highs.

It took a moment for Dean to muster the wherewithal to turn his head, but when he did he discovered that Cas was watching him with bright crystalline eyes, his handsome features haloed in the soft yellow light of the lamp on the side table.

"Hey," Dean drawled, his tone exhausted, but his heart so full it threatened to spill from his eyes.

"Hey," Cas parroted, his voice still rough but warm, his own eyes glossy with emotion.

"That was…" Dean breathed, the sentence trailing off midway through when he realized he couldn't find a word to describe what they had just done.

"Exhilarating?" Cas provided with a chuckle. 

Dean nodded in agreement, looking back at the ceiling, blinking rapidly against the rising tide of emotions he was not ready to deal with so soon. "I didn't know it could be like that between..."  _ Two men.  _ He swallowed the last two words, banishing them.

Cas regarded him seriously for a moment before turning his body onto his side toward the hunter.

"Are you...ashamed?" He asked in a small, thin voice.

Dean's head snapped to the side so quickly, his vertebrate popped.

"No, never." Dean stated earnestly, cupping Cas's cheek as he spoke, but when he couldn't quite meet the former angel's eyes, Cas took that hand in his own and squeezed.

"Dean--"

“I’m not ashamed of what we did.” Dean continued in a rush needing Cas to know that with absolute certainty. Somewhere within him a fault line shifted, and things he hadn’t thought about in years suddenly burst forward. Words were erupting from the crack, and now that they had started spilling out, he couldn’t stop them.

“It’s just...my dad had this idea of how I should be; how a man should be and I sort of realized just now while we were--” He felt himself blush, which was absurd because he was still stark naked and splattered with drying semen. “--well. I realized that I don’t fit that idea. I don’t think I ever have and maybe that’s why he treated me the way he did. Like he knew from the start I was...different and tried to stop it. And I fell for it. I fell for it, and my whole life I’ve felt this horrible guilt for thoughts I couldn’t control, but I just pushed it down, buried it under years of pointless, loveless, nameless faces until I was numb. Then you crashed into my life and ruined me Cas. You fucking ruined me.”

Cas stared at him with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock.

"I'm in love with you." Rolled off Dean's tongue then like he'd said it a million times before that moment. “And I’m not ashamed of that either.”

The former angel squeezed his eyes closed, the expression on his face so relieved it was as though the words had lifted a physical weight from his shoulders.

"Say it again." He pleaded in a low, watery voice, trying hard to keep himself from crying. He’d waited so long to hear those words.

Dean twined his fingers loosely with Cas's between them before lifting their hands together to kiss his knuckles.

"I love you," Dean said against his lover’s skin, this time with more confidence. “It’s always been you, Cas.”

When Cas opened his eyes, he found Dean smiling at him, his own face moist with fresh tear tracks. 

“Oh, Dean.” He exhaled with a shaky breath, “I want to kiss you so badly but I don’t want to orally transfer any harmful bacteria.”

Dean stared at him in disbelief before erupting into howling laughter. Cas lifted himself up on his hands to stare at the hunter in confusion as the other man twisted and writhed beneath him in such mirth he began to wheeze.

It went on like that for several minutes until Dean composed himself enough to reach up and cup his friend’s cheek, his lips still trembling as he attempted to stifle the cackling aftershocks.

“Don’t ever change, Cas.” He told him tenderly though his eyes were still bright with amusement and satisfaction. 

They shared bashful smiles for a moment before Cas rose and departed wrapped in Dean’s robe to fetch a warm cloth. When he returned, mouth thoroughly cleaned, he sat at the edge of the bed and meticulously cleaned his hunter of all bodily fluids.

Afterward, the pair of the sprawled languidly on the bed tangled in one another. They lounged in comfortable silence for a time before Cas sighed “I love you too,” into Dean’s hair while his fingers traced nonsensical symbols along his back. 

“You don’t say?” Dean mumbled against the former angel’s chest. “Took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas replied contritely, “I suppose I’ve felt it for so long, it’s become innate. It's new, saying it out loud.”

Dean raised his head and rested his chin on Cas’s chest. “Better get some practice in then.” He said thoughtfully. 

Cas grinned easily at him. “I love you.”

“Hm.” Dean hummed, “Not quite. Try it again, with more feeling.”

Cas shifted them until he hovered over the hunter, framing his head with his arms and pressing their bodies together. 

“I’m in love with you, Dean Winchester.” He said firmly, sincerely.

Dean lifted his chin, his expression defiant. “Almost got there, but I’m still not convinced--”

Cas cut him off with a searing kiss that stole his breath.

“Then I shall show you again.” He growled, nipping at the hunter’s lips. “And again, and again and again until you are  _ thoroughly satisfied. _ ”  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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